


Out of Body Experience

by Satine86



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Boners, Bodyswap, Crack, Eventual Romance, F/M, Innuendo, Sexual Content, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, tasteless dick jokes, that time of the month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say to truly understand someone you must walk a mile in their shoes. Unfortunately for Varric and Cassandra... it's literal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Looking back the problem was the fact they'd been searching Elven ruins. Seriously, don't fuck with Elven artifacts.

Varric learned that the hard way. 

 

* * *

They'd been prowling around in the dark for ages, and frankly he didn't want to be there. The cramped, tomb like place reminded him too much of the Deep Roads, and he was starting to feel more and more claustrophobic. 

Which he said. Often and loudly. 

No one was paying attention.

Except the Seeker, who would occasionally cast him worried looks. Had it been any other time he would've ignored them, or perhaps taken them for what they were: honest concern. But instead he thought it was pity, and pity didn't suit him. So he goaded her. A lot. Until she'd stomped off, ignoring him like the others.

The whole thing had distracted him for a short time, but the fact remained that he still wanted out from the endless ruins and tunnels. So when the Inquisitor stopped to examine some ancient writing on the wall lit up only by veilfire, it wasn't his fault that he wandered. It wasn't his fault that he needed to keep moving, restless legs carrying him away from the group. And if she hadn't been on edge and uncertain about his state, Cassandra might not have followed him. 

She goaded him in return, and he let her, his nerves frayed. Their argument turned heated in a matter of moments. Varric turned his back on her, reached out with an agitated hand to angrily swap the artifact off its pedestal. 

Really, the entire thing was down to circumstance, and if they'd listened to him in the first place, not forced him underground, it wouldn't have happened. 

At least that's what he told himself when he came to. 

The jolt from the artifact had sent both him and Cassandra flying back against the far wall, knocking them senseless. 

Varric woke to Wren's face inches from his. 

“Thank the Maker! You're alive.” She sat back on her haunches, puffing out a breath. 

“Barely,” Varric replied with a groan. Only his voice was not his voice. He bolted upright, only to regret it when the back of his head throbbed with the motion. But that was a secondary concern at the moment. He looked down. His body was not _his_ body. 

“Varric?” _That_ was his voice. He whipped his head to the side, and stared at himself. What the fuck? 

“Seeker? That you?” 

“I think so? W-what happened?” Cassandra – Cassandra in his damned body – brought her hands up to cover her face... his face. 

Wren's gaze was balking at them both, her eyes so wide Varric was certain they were going to pop out of her head. “What's going on?” 

“I think they've switched bodies,” Dorian said, circling around the artifact Varric had touched. “This is likely the cause. Did you touch it?” he asked them absently. 

“Well, can you undo it?” Wren waved her hands at Varric and Cassandra, mouth twisting in confusion.

“I don't bloody know, I've never heard of such magic before,” Dorian said. “At least not quite like this. Such a clean switch, no mind control.” 

“Not helpful, Sparkler!” 

“This is very strange,” Dorian said with a frown. “The glare is familiar, but the words are not.” 

“How do you think we feel, Dorian!?” Cassandra roared at him, her ire combined with Varric's lower timbre had the words bouncing around the room, echoing deep within the ruins. She slapped a hand over her mouth. Or was it his mouth? Fuck, this was confusing. 

“Let's get you out of here. We can send in a team to retrieve the artifact, take it back to Skyhold.” Wren stood up, casting a wary glance toward said artifact. “Maybe Dagna and Dorian can work something out?” 

“Well, we can try.“

Shaking his head, Varric stood up. And up. Holy shit the Seeker was tall. He glanced down, shook one leg experimentally. 

“How do you work these things, Seeker?” He felt like a newborn foal, all flailing limbs and lack of coordination. 

“You're like a hulking, immoveable wall.” She glanced toward him. “You must be impossible to knock over.”

“Is that a challenge?” 

She frowned. “No!” 

Varric laughed softly and shook his head. It was strange looking down, even Wren didn't seem so giant. They started walking back to the entrance, but the group only got a few steps before they realized Cassandra was lagging behind.

“Problems?” Wren asked. 

Cassandra’s head snapped up, gaze focused on Varric. She took a strange step, legs wide. “How do you...” she paused, mouth working like she was searching for the right words. Finally she gestured toward her crotch – his crotch, whatever – “How do you even walk with _that_.”

Wren and Dorian started laughing so hard they had to lean on each other, voices echoing around them like a chorus of amused spectators. Varric nearly choked on his own spit. 

“Uh, practice?” he finally supplied. 

Dorian was on the floor now, arm wrapped around Wren's leg to at least keep himself sitting. Wren was gasping for air, cheeks pink. 

“Well, now we know what Varric is packing besides Bianca!” she said, and that only seemed to renew their laughter.

Cassandra made her way to Varric's side, peering up at him nervously. It was so bizarre to see such a look on his own damned face. 

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Believe me, there are worse things.” He tilted his head at the laughing pair and scoffed. “Besides, they'll get over it eventually.” 

“Ugh,” she made her signature disgusted noise. Though coming from his lips it lacked a certain element. He figured she would probably have plenty of time to practice. Who knew when – or even if – they'd get their own bodies back. Maker, what a mess. 

“Can we go now?” Varric asked. “Because, you know, not a fan of this place.” He gestured to the entire structure, pleased to note that Wren and Dorian seemed to be pulling themselves together. 

Wren gave Dorian a hand up, and took in a deep breath. “Sure,” she said. “We're coming... big boy.” 

That sent them both into a fit of laughter and Varric rolled his eyes. “Fine, I'll be waiting outside.” He started walking toward the exit... at least he thought it was toward the exit. He was aware of Cassandra trailing behind him. She hadn't corrected him, so he figured that was a good sign. 

They stepped into the daylight and fresh air, Varric took in a deep breath. Cassandra stopped next to him and he looked down – that was going to take A LOT of getting used to – and stared. It was so strange to see his face like this.

Judging by Cassandra's wide eyes, she was having the same response.

“I'm very tall,” she commented. Wren and Dorian finally appeared behind them. “Wren is towering.” 

“Fun, isn't it?” Varric said dryly. “You know, you never see your face like others do. We always see it reflected, in mirrors or water. This is just.. unreal. I never realized the break was so noticeable.” Unconsciously he reached up and touched his face, finding Cassandra's much smaller nose and traced it with light fingers. 

Cassandra was poking her cheek experimentally. “I am not sure I will be able to get used to this.” 

“Well, let's hope you don't have to, hm?” Dorian said cheerily, clapping his hands together. 

“Right,” Wren nodded next to him. Two scouts appeared from camp and she gave them directions to the artifact. “Be careful with it, try not to touch it directly? But box it up, we'll take it back to Skyhold in the morning.” 

“The morning?” Varric asked. “Can't we leave now?”

The sooner they set out, the sooner they got back to Skyhold, and the sooner this mess was sorted out. Hopefully. 

“The sun is almost gone, I'm not risking us getting lost in the dark.” She paused. “I know this is... actually no, I have no idea what it's like. But we should wait and set out in the morning.”

“I hate it when you're right,” he muttered. 

“Let's just try to relax?” Wren bared her teeth in a smile, motioning toward camp. Dorian was more than happy to comply, following the path back toward their encampment. 

Wren followed him, and Varric trailed behind her. 

“Varric?” 

He glanced back at Cassandra. “Yeah?” 

“I have to....” She cleared her throat. “I have to pee.” 

“So go?” He kept walking, but he could feel Cassandra staring after him. He stopped and turned around. “What?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Is there... is there a certain... uh, technique?” 

“Oh!” he breathed, understanding finally dawning on him. Then he tried really, really hard not to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I shouldn't start something new. But this has been in my WIP folder for ages, and I was inspired to work on it so here we are! Hopefully the inspiration will keep flowing so I can finish one of the other WIPs... :/


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cass.....

Cassandra felt her face flush. The last thing she wanted was Varric laughing at her, laughing with her own face. He covered his mouth and took in a deep breath. Behind him Wren and Dorian had stopped walking, obviously listening.

“Oh, yes, Varric, is there a technique to handling such large equipment?” Wren started cackling, Dorian snorting loudly. 

“Inquisitor, _please_!” Cassandra entreated her. This was embarrassing enough without being laughed at. Repeatedly. By everyone.

Wren sobered slightly and nodded. “Fine, fine. We'll just head to camp. Let you two kids deal with it. Privately.” 

Once Cassandra was sure they were out of earshot, she turned toward Varric. It was beyond surreal to look up and see her face, see all the hard edges. She wondered how Varric felt, looking up at that angry face time and time again. Did he feel threatened? It startled her to realize that she probably would, in his position. 

Though now her face was softer, and she was certain that was all Varric. She tried not to think about that too much. 

He cleared his throat and squinted slightly, obviously thinking. “So... I would appreciate it if you didn't piss my pants.” 

“I am not a child, Varric!” She nearly stamped her foot incredulously, but stopped herself in time. That would not prove her point. “Is there anything I.. must know?” 

Varric pressed his thumb between his brows, took in a deep breath. “Just... be gentle?” 

She made a noise in the back of her throat. “Honestly, Varric?” 

“Do you want me to help?” 

“NO!” she shrieked, surprised that Varric's voice could even go that high. “This is fine. You just.. stay there.” With that, she whirled around and started toward the privacy of the forest. Though, she supposed she really didn't need to take the precaution. He had certainly seen it all before. 

As she disappeared into the foliage, a sudden realization had her tripping over her feet as a fierce heat rose to her cheeks: Varric, inevitably, would see _her_ body.

 

* * * 

 

It took Cassandra an inordinate amount of time to be able to look Varric in the face again. Which was strange, since it was her face. Still, her embarrassment was all consuming. It wasn't until after the evening meal, and the patrol soldiers had so graciously shared a flask of grain alcohol so strong it burned Cassandra's throat, that she was able to look at him again. 

Of course then he had asked for her assistance with relieving himself, and that had left them both a little flustered. The indignity of it all. Now, though, he was busy telling a story, as he usually did in the evenings. He wove the tale easily, hands moving to help build the picture. 

Words had never been easy for her, it was so foreign to watch as her body, her voice, now held a captive audience. She wondered what it was like to hold that kind of power. She also wondered if Varric realized the gift he had. 

He was not a fool, he had cultivated a life of storytelling and lies, he knew his talents and his strengths. But did he see the gift? The spark that couldn't be dampened, even when he was trapped in her feckless body. 

Varric finished his tale to uproarious laughter from those gathered, his own amusement apparent by the smile splitting his face face – _her_ face. The change was amazing, the light in the eyes, the softening of otherwise strong features. 

Cassandra knew she was considered an attractive woman, striking features, they always said. But she was harsh, sharp lines and rough scars. As she watched now, the broad smile and dancing eyes, she thought she might actually be beautiful. 

She wondered how much of that was her own visage and how much of it was Varric, his genial spirit, his charm. She wondered, idly, if Varric had ever stared at her from across the fire and thought she was beautiful? 

She also wondered why it even mattered. 

“Right,” Wren said, stretching her arms over head. “I think it's time we call it a night. Early morning and all that.” 

She stood and Dorian followed suit, stifling a yawn. Wren gestured between Cassandra and Varric. “You two can share a tent tonight. Work out whatever needs to be worked out.” 

“There is nothing to 'work out', I assure you!” Cassandra squawked. 

“I don't think that's what she meant, Seeker.” Varric tilted his head, lips twitching. Why did he have to find this whole thing so amusing? Why did he always have to be so... at ease. Was he never off-kilter? 

“That is not.. I did not. Oh, never mind!” Cassandra stood and quickly made her way to the tent with her bedroll, or Varric's she supposed. This was all terrible. As the flap fluttered shut behind her, she could hear some laughter from the others and her face burned anew. 

“Sleep tight, Varric!” Wren sing-songed as the flap opened again, announcing his arrival. 

Silence fell after the flap closed again, blocking out the light from the campfire. They both readied themselves for sleep, stretching out next to each other and attempting to get comfortable in their new bodies. 

Cassandra rubbed her hands absently, and only after a moment did she really register the discomfort. “You have... bad joints?” she asked slowly, a frown marring her brow. 

“Heh, yeah. Gloves help, not so bad when my hands are warm. I think it's all the years of writing.” He paused, shifted on his bedroll. “Bum knee?” 

“No, just an old injury. When we hit the wall, that likely aggravated things. Rest it, it should be fine.” 

“Right, I'll be careful then. Anything else I should be aware of?” He rolled onto his side, propped his head on his fist. 

“No, I do not think so. Other than, perhaps, do not get yourself killed?” 

He laughed and flopped back on his bedroll.“That goes both ways, Seeker.” 

They both fell silent again, and the next thing Cassandra knew was a shaft of sunlight streaming in through a seam in the canvas. Sucking in a deep breath, she felt... uncomfortable. She shifted, and that made things worse. 

Glancing down she could make a rather distinct bulge outlining the front of Varric's breeches. No. No, no, no. Why did this have to happen? She could feel her face burning... she could feel other things too. She did not want any of this. 

Letting out the most disgusted noise she could manage, she rolled over and shook Varric awake, hissing his name. 

“Huh?” he mumbled, opening his eyes slowly. He blinked a couple of times, then shook his head once she was in focus. “Shit, it wasn't a dream.” 

“I have a problem, Varric.” 

“What's that?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up slowly. She remained silent while he stretched, waiting for him to turn his attention on her again. Once he did, she pointed down and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

He had the grace to blush. 

“Uh.. um. Heh.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shit.” 

“What do I do?” she hissed. 

Varric's gaze snapped up to meet hers, and then his demeanor changed. He grinned at her, clearly amused. “Well,” he drawled. 

“Not. That.” she ground out. 

“You sure? I could always give you a hand?” He laughed, though Cassandra imagined she caught a waver in his voice. She didn't dwell on it too long, though, she was far more concerned by the fact her face felt like it was on fire and there was blood rushing in her ears. 

“No,” she hissed at him. “You will keep _my_ hands out of this! I will... find some cold water. That will work, yes?” 

Varric nodded. Something about the look on his face – _her_ face – made the problem more apparent and she would **not** think about that. She rose and lurched out of the tent, not entirely certain where she was going. She just needed to get away from Varric. If she recalled there was a creek not far from the camp. That would suit. 

She barely managed to remember to grab Varric's pack before disappearing into the trees. This entire predicament was getting worse by the minute.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumped up from T to M because SOMEONE can't keep their dirty thoughts at bay apparently. GOSH!

The moment Cassandra disappeared through the flap, Varric collapsed back against his bedroll and covered his face with both hands. 

It had been a joke. To lighten the mood. Or something like that.

Yet now all he could think about was Cassandra's hands and... Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He moaned, only to realize the problem with that too late. 

It wasn't _his_ voice.

It was Cassandra's.

Maker take him, this was horrible. He dropped his hands and took in a deep breath before sitting up. At least he wasn't Cassandra, dealing with a visible problem whomever was on watch likely knew about now. Glancing down at Cassandra's body, he supposed that was one perk. 

Except there could be other things... like flushed cheeks, fuller lips–shit, he needed to stop thinking. He really, really needed to stop thinking. 

This was Cassandra Disgusted Noise Pentaghast he was having dirty thoughts about. Cassandra Disgusted Noise Pentaghast who would likely have no reservations about stabbing him, in her body or not, if she knew this particular thought process. 

He scrubbed his hands over his face again. Maker's ass, what a mess. Reaching across the tent, he intended to grab the notebook he kept beside his bedroll. He could distract himself with writing. If he was lucky. 

Though he paused, face inches from the spot where his head usually rested. It smelled. Though, it wasn't unpleasant. He leaned down the rest of the way and took a deep breath in. It smelled like him, he had to assume, except it didn't really. Not how he usually smelled, or so he thought. 

It smelled good.

Really good. 

Sitting up, he lifted his hand and traced the lines of Cassandra's nose. _That_ was what he smelled like to Cassandra? Did she think he smelled good? That did not help his current situation. Not in the least. He squirmed, a little uncomfortable, and laid down again. Staring at the flap of the tent, he wondered if he should go see about breakfast or something. If the others were up, they would distract him.

He lifted his head, looking down at his temporary – it _had_ to be temporary – body. He looked at the long, lean lines, and the tantalizing swell of Cassandra's breasts covered only by her jerkin.... he _would not_ look. He would deal with natural bodily functions and that was it. 

But Maker did he want to. 

That realization honestly shocked him. Because if was honest, he'd wanted to for a long time. Although, he reasoned, Cassandra was an attractive woman. No one could deny that. It was reasonable that he might have.. certain... feelings. 

Oh, fuck. 

Draping an arm over his eyes, he wondered if perhaps he could just go back to sleep and everything would magically revert back to normal. Though, he'd thought that last night and it never came to pass. Perhaps this time it would work? He could hope. 

He let his breathing slow, and soon he was drifting off again. The last thought he was conscious of was of Cassandra. 

 

* * * 

 

It was too light. 

Varric reached up and rubbed his eyes. Why, in the Maker's name, was there was so much light shining on his face? Cracking open one eye, he was surprised to find that he was not in the tent. He sat up slowly, looked down to his bared chest. That was delightfully familiar and he let out a thankful sigh. Except, how was in his body? And where the fuck was he? 

Maybe he'd been knocked out? And he'd... hallucinated? That would make sense. He hit his head and now he was... somewhere recovering. 

Glancing around at his surroundings, Varric thought the room looked like it belonged in the Winter Palace, opulent and lush. Fine art lining the walls, sunlight streaming in through gauzy curtains, and the bed... the sheets were soft and the pillows plush. Everything was of the finest quality.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled, staring at an ornate candelabra on the table next to the bed. A soft moan sounded beside him, and his heart stopped. 

Varric slowly turned to look at the other side of the bed, and the pile of blankets that signaled the fact he was most definitely not alone. He lifted the blankets slightly and looked down at his lower half. 

Well, shit. Why was he naked in a luxurious suite with someone? More importantly: how did he get there? No, scratch that. Most importantly: who the fuck was it?

The blankets started to shift, a slim hand emerged to push them back to reveal... Cassandra's face, eyes heavy and cheeks slightly flushed. 

Andrate's sacred ass, what was happening? 

He had a hundred apologies ready, an entire dialogue about how it wasn't his fault and he had no idea what happened, but it all died on his tongue when she smiled. It was soft, gentle, and spread slowly across her face, lighting it up.

His heart lurched. 

“Good morning,” she said, voice rough with sleep. She reached out and raked her fingers through his hair. The act was... intimate. And that startled him. 

Varric could only watch in confusion as she shuffled closer to him, close enough that he could feel her warmth, and he dully realized she was naked as well. He watched in a daze, everything a little hazy, as she leaned up slightly. Her hand snaking around the back of his neck and tugged him down for a kiss.

There was a voice in the back of his head telling him he shouldn't, it was Cassandra for fuck's sake. But that didn't stop him from kissing her back. Not when she parted her lips, moaning into the kiss, the sound going straight to his groin. 

She lowered herself back onto the mattress, pulling him with her. He braced a hand next to her head, her own tangled in his hair as she deepened the kiss. It was languid and befitting an early morning, the sun warming them as they pressed together. 

Cassandra trailed one hand down his back, a long leg – strong and tanned – wrapped around his hip, bringing her flush against him. He groaned, his hand going to her waist, molding to her curves, and kissed her a little more fiercely. 

“Varric,” she whimpered, grinding against him in the most heady, intoxicating way. He found his imagination had _nothing_ on this, and he thought he should stop. Ask her what was going on, but he couldn't. She was addicting, and honestly he didn't want to stop. Not ever. He could happily stay in this bed, kissing the Seeker for the rest of his days. 

Her hand moved between them. All right, maybe not _just_ kissing. 

“Varric,” she said again, this time more insistent. “Varric!” 

Pulling back, he looked down at her blissful face and smiled. 

_“VARRIC!”_

He jerked awake, sitting up quickly and knocking his head against Cassandra's. Only it wasn't Cassandra's head he hit, it was his. Because he wasn't in his body, he was in hers. And they were in a tent in the middle of nowhere and... what the fuck had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another A/N: LOOK is it’s entirely possibly that a dwarf consciousness in a human body _COULD DREAM_. That is my story and I’m sticking to it… mostly because it makes for some delightful crack. HAHAHA sorry Varric (just kidding! I’m not sorry at all).


	4. Chapter 4

Bathing had been an adventure. She had stripped quickly, avoided looking down at all, and stewed in the icy stream. Then she dried and dressed, eyes firmly locked on the canopy of the forest. Even despite the cold water, Cassandra still felt... off. Her face still burned as well. 

She was thankful the camp was still quiet when she returned. She hesitated outside the tent before a strange sound caught her attention, and she pushed the flap aside. 

Varric was asleep. 

Cassandra sank onto her haunches, studying her face in sleep. Was that honestly how she looked? Was that what others saw, what Varric saw? She reached out hesitantly, ran a gentle finger across the scar that marred her cheek. 

In his sleep, Varric moaned. 

That was not... Cassandra narrowed her eyes. Varric's hips wiggled suggestively, cheeks oddly flushed, and eyes moving rapidly behind closed lids. Was he dreaming? 

“Varric,” she hissed and reached out to shake him. “Varric!” 

He moaned again. Maker, this was mortifying. Taking in a deep breath she tried once again, “ _VARRIC!_ ” 

That finally got his attention and he bolted upright, the top of his head making harsh contact with her nose. She let out a string of curses, hands covering her pained nose. 

“Are you trying to break it again?” she asked, dropping her hands. Thankfully no blood. She gave it an experimental wiggle with gentle fingers. Tender, but no worse for the wear. Thank the Maker for small mercies, she supposed. 

“What?” he asked. “What happened?” 

“You were... dreaming.” About what exactly, she could only imagine. She likely didn't want to know the specifics. 

“Is _that_ what that was?” The expression he wore was full of open wonder, and only then did she remember that Dwarves couldn't dream. Andraste preserve her. Varric ran a hand through his hair, took in a shaky breath. “Do they usually seem so... real?” 

“They can,” she said slowly, watching him closely. “What did you dream about?” 

He stilled, eyes darting around the room. “Uh, there was a room. A really grand one.” He waved a hand absently, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to look at her. “The bedding was red and gold.” 

Cassandra barely managed to silence her surprised gasp. She dreamt of that room sometimes...she dreamt of--

“What else?” she asked, hoping she sounded at least somewhat relaxed. She supposed there was some strange logic to it, it was her body. Her dreams. Maker, how much had he seen? Did he even realize? 

His flushed. “Uh, nothing.” 

“Are you certain? Was there no one with you?” 

His gaze snapped up to hers, brows lowered. “Seeker, have you had that dream before?” 

Cassandra shrugged lightly. “I do not know? Perhaps? A room with red and gold bedding hardly seems like something I would remember upon waking.” She bit the inside of her cheek, she could feel the start of a fresh blush starting. Maker taker her! 

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, so she did the only sensible thing she could do. She fled. Diving out of the tent and all but racing to the campfire, where Wren was waiting for water to boil for her morning tea. 

“Everyone sleep all right?” she asked. 

“Very well,” Cassandra said, voice tight. Varric was not far behind her. She ignored him as he took a seat; ignored his staring. 

Wren did not ignore it. “Everything good between you two? Any problems come up?” 

Cassandra's gaze snapped up to meet Varric's, and they looked at each other for a panicked moment before turning on a very confused Wren. 

“We're fine!” they cried in unison. 

 

* * *

After re-braiding and pinning up her hair – or was it Varric's hair? Their hair? – Cassandra avoided Varric for the remainder of the day. Which was rather easy, since she was certain he avoided her as well. He spent his time conversing with either Wren or the soldiers driving their carriage. The carriage and that blasted crate with that blasted artifact. 

She prayed Dorian and Dagna would be able to do something. Of course then that would lead to a new set of problems. Like having to look Varric in the face after having been in his body. And he in hers. Oh, Maker. 

They made good time that day, traveling until dusk. She still avoided him at dinner, instead helping set up tents. Again they shared a space, but they did not speak. As she settled down for the night, she wondered if she would dream or not. Though she was not given the chance to test out the theory. 

It was still dark when she woke suddenly, and it took her a moment to realize what had disturbed her. Next to her, Varric was thrashing in his sleep, quiet whimpers escaping past parted lips. 

She debated over waking him or not, unsure of the consequences when he had no idea what dreaming was. In the end she knew she couldn't leave him to his nightmares. She called his name gently, reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder. 

It took a moment before he woke, eyes glinting in the dim moonlight filtering in from a break in the seam. His breathing was erratic as he remained on his bedroll. Finally he seemed to recognize her presence, where he was, and sat up. 

“Shit,” he muttered and she noticed he was shaking. “This whole dreaming thing, not worth it. It was so real.” 

He rested his elbows on top of his knees, head cradled in his hands. She scooted closer, placed a gentle hand on his back. 

“Sometimes it helps to talk about it. Makes it seem less real.”

He took in a shuddering breath, let it out slowly. “There were catacombs..? They sprawled out. And there were bodies. Bodies everywhere.” 

Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath. “The Necropolis.” 

“Creepy fucking place, Seeker. A door shut, and it got darker.” His voice shook and he shivered. 

“That was the first time uncle took me to visit. I didn't like it.” 

“Neither did I.” He turned his head to look at her. “Then it wasn't the same place, it was the Thaig. It was so dark and I didn't think we'd ever get out.”

His breathing was erratic again, and without really thinking Cassandra started rubbing circles on his back. “It's not real, Varric. You are not there. You are safe.” 

“I didn't tell you that part, did I, Seeker? The part where I lost my shit. Couldn't breath, couldn't move.” He stopped and swallowed thickly, eyes drifting shut. “I thought we would die down there, and it was my fault. Not Bartrand's, the bastard that locked us in there. Mine. Because I was fool enough to let him lead us down there in the first place.” 

Cassandra wasn't sure what she should say to that, so she did the only thing she could think to do. She gathered Varric into a comforting embrace. 

It was strange to hug ones self. It was stranger still to realize how small she was. Sitting side by side on the ground, their height difference was not so noticeable, especially when Varric was drawn in on himself as he was. Compared to Varric's broader, sturdier form, Cassandra almost thought her frame seemed delicate. She had never felt like that in all her life. 

Perhaps her feelings would be different, were she in her own body. But she was not, she was in Varric's, and in that moment the body of Cassandra Pentaghast seemed small and delicate and _soft_. 

She wondered if Varric ever saw her that way. Then she pushed her thoughts aside, this was not the time for dwelling on insecurities and fantasies. Varric was calming, his breathing evening out again, and the shaking had stopped. 

“I'm sorry,” he said as he pulled away, hand darting up to swipe at his face. Cassandra kept a hand on his back, reassuring. 

“No, do not be. Nightmares can be terrible for anyone, and when you have never experienced it. I cannot imagine.” She shook her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Varric. No reason to apologize.” 

“The dream before was confusing. But this time, with a memory? It was so fucking real and so fucking awful.” He glanced at her. “Do you dream like that? Nightmares that seem real.”

“Sometimes,” she said slowly. “I've dreamt of the Necropolis, how much I hated it. I've dreamt of Anthony, my parents, of others who have died before their time. They are never pleasant, but I hardly ever remember the details come morning. The light seems to banish them.”

“I hope so.” 

“Come, we will lie together.” She settled herself against her bedroll. Varric arched a brow at her. 

“Are you sure about that?” 

“I would not have offered if I wasn't certain.” 

He didn't move a moment, though finally he stretched out, bringing himself close to her. Once they were settled together, she spoke.

“See, Varric, it is not so strange.”

“I suppose not. I _am_ rather comfortable.” He laughed. “Warm too.” 

“Go to sleep. It will be better in the morning.”

Silence fell after that, and Cassandra fancied that he had fallen asleep until he took in a breath. “Seeker?” 

“Yes?”

A pause. “Thank you.” 

She smiled to herself. “Of course.”


	5. Chapter 5

Varric didn't dream much in the following days, and for that was he was thankful. Things had gotten back to normal between Cassandra and himself, or as normal as ever. They teased each other and bickered some, but it was comfortable. Routine. 

That was good.

Especially since they were still some days out from Skyhold, and Dorian was no closer to figuring anything out. Not without countless tomes at his disposal, and Dagna's sheer enthusiasm to get them through. 

They were coming up to an Inn situated in the middle of a major trade route. They'd stayed there on their way to investigate the ruins, and he remembered it as a welcoming place. The idea of sleeping in a real bed for one night was almost more than he could bear, he'd been dead tired for the last two days. And his back ached from sleeping on the ground, probably an unfortunate side effect from having been flung into a wall. 

As the inn came into view, he could smell fresh bread and he realized how hungry he was. His mouth watered at the thought of a hot meal. Stew. Maker, he wanted a bowl of stew and a mug of stout. 

“I'm starving,” he muttered to Wren. She wrinkled her nose.

“We just stopped for the midday meal, how can you be hungry?” 

“Look,” Varric narrowed his eyes. He was hungry, he was tired, and he had a headache. He didn't want to deal with any shit. “This body is hungry. So I'm going to eat.” 

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, at Cassandra walking next to Dorian. “You want to tell the Seeker she eats too much?” 

Wren pulled a face. “Eugh, no. I like living, thank you.” 

“Then kindly shut up.” 

“You're grumpy in Cassandra's body.” 

Varric grunted, but didn't dignify it with any further response. So what if he was grumpy? He had to deal with dreams and nightmares and the fact he was in Cassandra's _body_. He had every right to be grumpy. 

They continued on to the Inn, Wren procuring them rooms for the night. Varric sat down at the first empty table he spotted, and ordered some food and a pint. Things were finally looking up. 

By that evening, the taproom lit up with a roaring fire and lanterns hanging from the ceiling, Varric had acquired his usual flock of listeners, all eager for a story. He had attempted to remain... stoic. But as the drinks flowed, his natural inclination for a tall tale took over. Cassandra, seated at the other end of their table, hadn't given him a death glare, so he had continued with his stories.

The group he gathered seemed to be a fine bunch, some merchants, local farmers, and a few younger hunters. Varric charmed them as he usually did, easily striking up conversations between his tales. It was honestly an enjoyable evening. The most fun he'd had in days.

At the conclusion of a tale, Varric excused himself to refill their tankards. One of the young hunters, Gareth, joined him at the bar, his own mug in hand.

“You have acquired many tales, m'lady,” he said, and it took Varric a moment to realize who he was speaking to. Varric turned to look at him, in a strange way he reminded him of Junior. He smiled. 

“You have no idea,” Varric replied with a shake of his head. Gareth stepped a little closer, and Varric was struck anew by the Seeker's height, almost eye to eye with the young man. 

“Perhaps, if you'd like,” Gareth said, voice low. “We could find a quiet corner, just you and me?” 

Varric nearly growled. For fuck's sake. Just because the Seeker was gorgeous, didn't mean she could be whisked away to a darkened corner like a girl from the Blooming Rose. It took far more than that to woo a woman like her. 

And of course he had no idea what to say to discourage the kid. He wasn't entirely sure, 'sorry you're not my type' would work. Maybe if he said he was actually a dwarf trapped in a human's body? Maker, he wasn't nearly drunk enough for this shit. 

“What?” Varric finally managed.

“I've noticed the smiles. I think it's time we got to know each other a bit better,” Gareth said. Varric opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut short. 

“Do you need any help, _dear_?” A wide hand settled on his hip, and Varric looked down to find Cassandra at his side. He had never been happier to see.. himself? Either way, relief washed over him and he latched onto her offer of help, happily wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Only waiting for the refills... _darling_.” He smiled, praying it looked adoring. 

Beside them Gareth made a noise, a slightly choked sound, and honestly Varric had half a mind to deck him. Was it so impossible a woman like the Seeker would go for a dwarf like him? He stopped, perhaps it was. 

“Is this your.. beau?” Gareth asked. Oddly, Cassandra seemed to bristle slightly at the question. She shifted a bit and fixed the hunter with a bland look. 

“Hello,” she greeted him coolly. “Varric Tethras,” Cassandra paused for a moment, casting Varric a wry look before turning her gaze back on Gareth. “At your service.” 

“I'm Gareth.” He took Cassandra's hand, shaking it slowly. “I was telling your lady here, she has quite the fanciful tales.” 

Cassandra grinned, looking up at Varric. “Yeah, a born storyteller this one. The only problem is figuring out which ones are true, and which ones are lies.” She patted his hip, a little more forcefully than was necessary. 

Gareth laughed, and quickly took his leave. Once he was gone they gathered their ales, and returned to where the others sat. 

“How did you know?” Varric asked. 

“I have had that body and face far longer than you have. Besides,” she smirked at him. “You're too nice, of course they would take it the wrong way.” 

“Ah, is that the real reason for all the scowling, Seeker? Simply scaring off suitors?” 

She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, but it lacked any real heat. Reaching their table, they handed off tankards to Wren and Dorian, who were engrossed in a game of chess with a scuffed board and chipped pieces belonging to the Innkeeper. 

Cassandra took a seat and, before Varric could retake his own pulled him onto her lap. She wound her arms around his waist, ignoring Wren and Dorian's shocked faces across the table.

“Anything we should know?” Wren asked, lips twitching. 

Varric glared at her until she and Dorian returned to their game, then turned his attention back to Cassandra. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Staking my claim,” she replied. “We must sell the illusion of a happy couple, mustn’t we... darling?”

“This is ridiculous.” 

“If you stopped charming all the men present, we wouldn't have to pretend.” 

“I'll keep that in mind next time.” That earned him a pinch to the thigh. 

The rest of the night passed well enough. At least Varric didn't have to deal with any more untoward advances. For that he was thankful. 

It was late when he climbed the stairs and tumbled into his bed. Unfortunately for him, sleeping was not forthcoming. 

 

* * * 

 

In the morning, it was Wren who came to wake him. Bounding into his room like an overly excited puppy, and flopping down on the edge of the bed.

“Good morning, Varric!” she cried happily. 

Varric had never wanted to stab someone more in all his life. And that included Hawke. The night had been long and riddled with pain. The last thing he needed was be around someone _cheery_. 

“You are too loud.” He pulled the blankets over his head, the only thing more painful than the sensation of daggers repeatedly stabbing his abdomen, was his headache. 

“Oh, come on, you didn't drink that much last night.” She nudged his leg. “What's wrong?” 

“I don't know.” Varric curled in on himself, wanting nothing more than to relieve some of the pain. It didn't help though. “Get Cassandra.” 

“Are you all right?” Wren's voice was full of concern, the bed shifting as she leaned forward. Varric lowered the blankets, and eyed her. 

“No,” he said, and suddenly he felt as if he might cry. Andrate's sagging tits, what was happening? “I think her body is rejecting me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: I said I was ALL IN. So I'm ALL IN.


	6. Chapter 6

Cassandra was breaking her fast with Dorian the following morning, when she heard a loud clatter as Wren descended the staircase in a hurry. 

“Cass–!” She stopped short, brow marred in confusion. She cast a wary glance around the room before pointing at Cassandra. You,” she said, “come with me.”

Frowning, Cassandra pushed back her chair and followed Wren upstairs. “What's wrong?” she asked once they were away from everyone. 

“Something's wrong with Varric.” Wren paused outside his room, hand on the latch. “He thinks your body is rejecting him.” 

“What? That doesn't make any sense. I feel no.. adverse effects from the switch.” Cassandra shook her head. “I will see to him. You go downstairs, eat, talk to Dorian. It will be fine.” 

Wren hesitated a moment before nodding and taking her leave. Cassandra waited until Wren was gone before pushing open the door. 

“Varric?” she asked gently, stepping into the room. 

“Seeker?” he moaned from the bed. “I just want it known for the record, I didn't break it. At least not on purpose.”

Cassandra scoffed as she took a seat on the edge of the bed, trying to keep her face neutral. “What is the matter?” 

He took in a deep breath, listing the myriad of symptoms he was suffering from: back and stomach pain, headache, lethargy. Along with the fact that he was certain he was dying. At the end of his tirade, Cassandra's eyes went wide and she quickly counted back. 

Then she laughed. 

A deep belly laugh with her head thrown back. 

“Oh, Varric,” she gasped. “You're not _dying_. It is my monthly courses.” 

He bolted upright and stared at her. “Your _**what**_?” 

“Every month when you bleed--”

“I know what it is, Seeker. I just... I never knew it was like _this_.”

“Well,” Cassandra said. “Everyone who deals with such things is different, but mostly yes. This is what it is like.” 

“Maker,” he moaned, flopping back against the mattress. “This is horrific!”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “It is not that bad,” she said. Though, she would have been lying if she said she wasn't grateful to skip out a month. The fact it was Varric suffering in her stead amused her more than she would care to admit. 

Reaching out, she laid a hand on his stomach. Varric's hands were wide and warm, and Cassandra thought it must offer some comfort. She was certain it would, were she in Varric's position. 

“You'll live, Varric,” she said. “The pain will get better soon; once the bleeding starts.” 

“That's reassuring.” He made a noise in the back of his throat and yanked a pillow over his face. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. “You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

“Perhaps a little.” Cassandra paused, pressed her lips together to keep her composure. “Will you stop sulking like a child?”

Varric lowered the pillow and looked at her gravely. “I'm not a child, Seeker. Clearly, I am a woman now,” he deadpanned. 

Cassandra covered her face, and started laughing despite herself. “You are terrible.”

“No, this whole experience is terrible.” 

Shaking her head, she waved her hand. “Roll over.” 

“Seeker!” Varric cried, brows arching upward. “What do you intend to do with me? Because I have to say, that face.” He shook his head. “Not doing it for me.” 

“It is your own face!” she cried. 

“Exactly.” 

She frowned, drawing her brows together. “Well, I happen to think it is a fine face.”

“Thank you? I suppose.” He looked as he were going to say something more on the topic, but instead shook his head. “Why did you want me to roll over in the first place?” 

“Do it, and I will show you.” 

After gauging her for a moment, he did as asked, stretching out on the bed with his arms tucked under his head. Cassandra reached out, splayed her hands on his lower back. Again, it was strange to really note the difference between her body and Varric's: broad hands encircled her waist, fingers brushing her sides. 

Cassandra pressed her thumbs into the spot where she knew it would offer the most relief; doing exactly what she had wished someone would do many times in the past. It seemed to work as Varric's eyes drifted shut, and he let out a pleased moan. 

The sound did something to her body. To _Varric's_ body. Cassandra decided to ignore it. 

“Is that better?” she asked instead. 

“Yeah,” Varric sighed. “Shit, yeah. I could kiss you right now, Seeker.” 

She froze. He meant nothing by it, she was certain. A flippant remark, nothing more. Though she wished it were something more. The fact she cared for Varric was nothing new. Their relationship–their friendship had been evolving and changing for months. Caring for him was just a part of that. 

The attraction was... it wasn't new either, if she were completely honest with herself. She had always found him handsome. And charming, even when he was lying. She knew there had been certain feelings for some time now. 

No, the thing that shocked her was the intensity of it all. 

Again a blush flared, and she cursed herself. It was foolish. She did not wish to kiss him now. Not in her body, but she did wish to kiss _him_. Because her feelings for Varric, his mind, his soul, or whatever one called it, had not diminished in the slightest. In fact, she thought they had grown. 

She sighed, pretended her thoughts were not as they were, a jumbled mess of confusion, and did what she could to ease Varric's back troubles. 

When she was done, Varric sat up and smiled. “Thanks, Seeker... that helped.” 

“Of course,” she nodded. And there was a moment, their gazes locked. Cassandra wasn't certain what it was that passed between them, but it was something. Nearly tangible, almost something she could put a name to. Then she blinked and it was gone. 

“I should... I should return to the others. They will have been worried, I'm sure. Wren will like to know you are well.” 

Varric's eyes went wide and he grabbed her arm tightly. “You can't tell her!” 

 

* * * 

“You thought you were dying, but it was just your monthly!?” Wren tilted her head back, boisterous laughter echoing around them. 

They had left the Inn shortly after Cassandra had informed them that Varric would live. Though she hadn't given many details until they were some distance from the place, with no one around to listen in on their conversations. 

“Oh, Maker.” Wren wiped the corner of her eye. “That is the best thing I've heard in months.” 

“To be fair,” Varric groused, “it's not _mine_ , it's Cassandra's.” 

“Still, this is fantastic.” She paused. 

“For you, maybe,” Varric muttered. He was stretched out in the back of the wagon, clutching his midsection. 

“Oh, I find it quite amusing as well,” Cassandra said, smiling slowly. 

“You would, Seeker.” 

“I have dealt with this every month since I was a girl, you can deal with it for one week.” 

“He certainly can,” Wren cut in. Then she turned her eye on Dorian. “Maybe we should switch?”

Dorian wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste. “I would be more than happy to have nothing to do with this conversation, thank you very much. Besides,” he added with a slow grin toward Wren. “We have no desire to see each others private bits, those two on the other hand? This whole ordeal must be quite enlightening for several reasons.” 

“Excuse me, Sparkler?” Varric sat up, glaring over the side of the wagon. “What are you on about it?” 

“Oh, please.” Wren rolled her eyes, and Cassandra had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “You've been making eyes at each other for ages. I'm surprised you haven't been inside her b--”

“ _Wrenelia_!” Cassandra hissed and buried her face in her hands, fighting the urge to scream. Dorian's laughter only added to her complete mortification. 

“Full name. It appears you've struck a nerve, Inquisitor.” Dorian chuckled. 

“If you two continue, I swear I will not hesitate to fire Bianca at you,” Varric warned. 

“I don’t know, Varric,” Wren said with a shake of her head. “Human body, dwarven hardware? You might need some extra... girth. I'm sure Cassandra will give you a hand.”

With that, Cassandra had had enough. Everyone had stopped walking, even the stoic soldiers accompanying them were starting to break. Though she had to give them some credit, they had not laughed yet. Still, she brushed past everyone, walking with purpose up the road. She could not get back to Skyhold soon enough. 

“Seeker, wait!” Varric called, jumping down from the wagon and easily catching her up. Once he drew even with her, he glanced down. “You're quick. Your body, I mean.”

“The perks of being tall.”

“Look, are you.. all right?” 

“Perfectly,” she replied, eyes focused straight ahead. She would not think... about those things. She would focus on returning to Skyhold, on hopefully getting her body back. Everything else... she would ignore for the rest of her days. Yes, a perfect plan. 

“They're kids, just ignore them, yeah?” 

She glanced up at him. “Varric, it is fine. Truly,” she said and kept walking. It took her a moment to realize Varric had fallen behind. She turned back to find him stopped in the middle of the road, face white.

“Uh, Seeker?” He looked down. “What happens... what happens once the bleeding starts?” 

Cassandra pressed her lips together, this was going to be an adventure. Behind them Wren had obviously figured out what was happening.

“Good news, Varric!” she yelled between bouts of laughter, “You're not pregnant!”


	7. Chapter 7

Varric vowed that every person he knew who suffered from this particular horror would receive a gift. Without question, every month. He would go bankrupt if he had to. 

He would also write and personally apologize for any grief he might have caused them during that trying time. Because frankly this was the biggest load of bullshit he could ever fucking imagine. And they dealt with it every month. 

The symptoms were bad enough, let alone actually _dealing with it_. The Seeker had his utmost respect. Not that she hadn't before, but now it was doubled. 

Speaking of Cassandra, she had been... kind. Comforting. Warm. She had been so many things, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Not that she wasn't capable of those things, not that he didn't believe she possessed those qualities. Because she did, he knew that; had learned long ago that she was so much more than just the angry woman who had stabbed his book. 

No, what confused was the fact that he didn't think he deserved it. 

It was his fault they were in the situation to begin with, and they both were paying for it. Every time she paid him a kindness, he felt a twinge of guilt. 

They were now just a day out from Skyhold, thank the Maker, and their possible salvation from this whole mess.

Varric glanced across the campfire at Cassandra, watched as she laughed with Dorian. That was something else, she had seemed so much more open. He couldn't help but wonder where that came from. Was it just because she was in his body? That she should put on fronts? 

Or did she simply feel... freer. He couldn't really blame her if she did, this whole thing had certainly given him a new perspective on her life. He imagined being able to hide behind his face would be freeing. No airs to keep up, no reputation to uphold. 

He couldn't help but wonder: who was Cassandra Pentaghast, truly? 

The answer, of course, was not a simple one. Nothing good was ever simple. And he was certain that uncovering Cassandra was something very good. Varric paused, looked down at the body he was currently inhabiting, and regretted ever thinking of the word 'uncover.' 

Huffing out a breath, Varric rose from his seat and quietly went to bed. Best, not to think about things too much. Best not to let his imagination run wild. 

It seemed like he had only settled down when the flap opened again, and Cassandra appeared. It was strange, he was getting more and more used to seeing _his_ face and relating it to _Cassandra_. He didn't think about that overmuch either. 

She readied herself for sleep, stretching out next to him with a sigh. He didn't speak while she settled herself, waiting until even the sounds of the camp were quiet. 

“Seeker?” 

“Hm?” she hummed. 

“Are you angry with me?” 

“What?” She rolled onto her side, and he could feel her gaze boring into him. “I am not. Have I given you reason to believe so?” 

He half fancied she sounded worried. Varric rolled over to face her. “No, you haven't. I only thought... well, it's my fault all this happened. The argument.. the artifact. You'd be well within your right to be angry.” 

“I am not, Varric. It was an accident, and we are both at fault. I needled you--”

“Only because I was being an ass,” he cut in. “I upset you first, you reacted. Then I reacted. We.. do that a lot.” 

Cassandra made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “That we do. But this... this has not been so bad, all things considered. I think there are worst people I could have switched with.” 

“Well, if we were picking, I would've chosen a different time of the month....” That earned him a real laugh, and he smiled. 

“Honestly though, Varric, I am not angry with you. Nor do I blame you. If I could do things differently, of course I would, but you are not at fault. It was an accident.” 

“Thanks, Seeker.”

“Varric, you should stop worrying. You can't change it, there's no point to dwell.” She sucked in a breath. “I have spent much time worrying over things I could not change, and I have come to learn how fruitless it is.”

“Would you change things, if you could? I mean, besides all this.” He gestured between them. 

She was so quiet for so long, Varric wondered if she had fallen asleep. Finally she spoke, voice quiet but clear. 

“No.”

“You sure? You've seen some heavy shit.” 

“Haven't we all?” she asked, lips turning upwards. “My life has not been easy, and if you had asked me this at another time, I probably would have answered differently. I could change things, make my life easier, or simpler.... but...”

She paused again, growing silent while she thought. Varric waited until she found the words she wanted. He would wait all night if he needed to.

“But my path was set, and if things had been different then I would not be where I am. I... I like where I have ended up. It took me some time to realize that, but I have, and I would not change it.” 

Unbeknownst to Varric they had both drawn closer, moving to the edges of their bedrolls, nearly touching. One small shift and they would be. 

“Cassandra...I...” He _what_? He cared for her? He wanted to kiss her? Both were true. It would be weird, to kiss, now. It would still be Varric Tethras kissing Cassandra Pentaghast... just backwards, and not the way he'd ever imagined. Ever hoped. 

But Maker he wanted to kiss _her_. 

They had both gone still, and there was something palpable between them. Something he couldn't name, but could feel. Then he knew, he knew it would happen. 

All they had to do was lean forward, just a bit. He thought he was leaning in; he thought she was too. Just a little nudge and then...

And then....

“BANDITS!” 

“You have got to be shitting me,” Varric muttered as Cassandra bolted upright, scrambling outside to arm herself. 

Varric stepped out of the tent and into chaos. 

The soldiers with them were engaged, protecting their horses and supplies and that Maker forsaken artifact. Wren bellowed a war-cry, swinging her giant hammer like an Avvar warrior, sending men and chunks of earth flying with each powerful blow. Dorian was shooting fireballs at anyone who came near enough, and barely had time to send out a barrier to protect Cassandra from a volley of arrows. 

Growling, Varric hefted Bianca and took aim. He hadn't done much with the crossbow since the switch, but it didn't seem to be a problem. Cassandra was a warrior, strong. 

Varric lined up his shot, and fired. 

The kickback was more than he anticipated, the force knocking him back a step, the bolt flying off somewhere into the woods. 

“Fuck everything,” he muttered before trying again. He braced his feet apart, sank a little lower to the ground. Lined up his shot and.... nearly fell over. 

“I can't do this!” Varric yelled. He looked at Cassandra, attempting to wield her blade and shield in his body. Honestly, it was comical. The shield wasn't wide enough to offer proper coverage, and the sword was too long, her balance off. 

“Neither can I!” she roared back. “This is ridiculous, your body is ridiculous!” 

Wren howled in pain, and Varric swung his gaze to find her with a bolt in her shoulder. She broke it off with a vicious curse before bellowing at them, “FUCKING SWITCH THEN! I NEED SOMEONE TO TAKE OUT THOSE ARCHERS!” 

“I would, but I'm afraid of setting the entire forest aflame!” Dorian cried, throwing up a barrier to the protect the soldiers and horses. 

Varric raced to Cassandra's side, grabbing her sword and shoving Bianca into her arms. This was going to be an interesting fight, he thought as he lifted up the shield. 

“Have you ever trained with a sword?” 

“Don't worry, I know to stick them with pointy end!” 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise before lifting Bianca, one eye squinted shut – oh, Maker, had she ever fired a crossbow before? – and aimed for an archer. The shot went wide. Really wide. 

Wide enough to nearly take off Sparkler's mustache.

“Excuse me, but would you mind terribly aiming at the _enemy_?” He let out a string of Tevene curses. 

“Sorry!” Cassandra grimaced. 

“Relax, Seeker. Just look where you want to shoot, Bianca will do the rest.”

She turned to look at him, and her eyes went wide. “Varric!” 

He whirled around, barely managing to raise the shield in time to deflect the blow. Bringing up the sword, he lashed out, landing a solid blow against his attacker. Varric was startled when something whizzed by his ear, before sinking into the man's throat. 

Backtracking from the body, he looked at Cassandra expectantly. 

She shrugged, “I did as you said.” 

“Good. Thanks!” He thought he was lucky the bolt hadn't ended up lodged in _his_ throat, but he would take what he could get. He turned, intending to back Wren up, when Cassandra called after him.

“Please remember to keep your shield up! I don't want anymore scars on my face!” 

He turned around and spread his arms wide, “Have some faith, Seeker! This will be _fine_.” 

Of course, that was when the bear attacked.


	8. Chapter 8

They had to literally hobble into Skyhold that evening. Everyone covered in scrapes and gashes and burns. In the end Dorian **had** lit the entire forest aflame. But it had fended off the bear and the bandits, so they couldn't complain too much.

Well, Wren was complaining, favoring her shoulder in a makeshift sling. 

“Bears? Why did it have to be bears?” she groused. “Josephine is going to kill me! 'Can't you ever keep yourself in one piece?'” she twisted her mouth, trying to affect an Antivan accent. 

It was atrocious. 

Passing through the gates of Skyhold, there was already a group gathered to welcome them back, the sentries having heralded their arrival. Luckily healers were included, and they were all immediately converged upon, wounds getting tended.

“OW!” Cassandra hissed as a healer prodded at the cut on her cheek. “It's fine.” She brushed the young mage away. 

“If that scars, Seeker. I'm holding you responsible,” Varric said. “Let them heal it.” 

“I will let them heal it if you let them set your wrist.” 

“It's not broken!” he cried. “It's a sprain. I released the shield before the bear could do too much damage.” 

He hissed when a healer grabbed his wrist, testing it gently before starting to set it.

“Quit being such a baby, Varric,” Cassandra hissed. 

They were both getting strange looks from those gathered, but they paid it little heed. Not until Cullen appeared and frowned deeply. 

“Might I ask about that curiosity?” he asked Wren with an arched brow, gesturing between Varric and Cassandra. 

“OH!” Wren visibly brightened and stood up, whistling to get everyone's attention. Cassandra was mortified to notice that the entirety of the remaining inner circle were gathered, including some rather important looking dignitaries. 

“Everyone, as you may know we set out to investigate some ruins... where we encountered a small setback.” She pointed at Cassandra and Varric. For her part, Cassandra wanted to sink to the earth and never been seen again. In her body or Varric's.

“These two have... switched places. So when you see Varric's body, it's really Cassandra, and Cassandra's body is really Varric. It is confusing, I know, but eventually you get used to it. Just listen for the disgusted noise. Also Varric has just finished his first _flowers_ , so he's a bit moody.” 

Varric covered his face. “You're worse than Hawke....” he mumbled. 

Wren just giggled in response. Then she noticed a stir amongst those gathered, something parting them. Once Josephine was in view, Wren's face dropped.

“Josie!” she cried. “Honestly, this time the injury isn't my fault! It's theirs!” 

“The hell it is!” Varric cried. 

“Well if you could shoot Bianca... either of you. I wouldn't have taken an arrow to the shoulder!” 

“Blame Sparkler, he should have had a barrier up!”

“I did! I was protecting the horses and this bloody box so you wouldn't be stuck as you are!” He kicked the crate for emphasis, and there was a strained moment as the artifact _rattled_ inside. 

The four of them froze, holding their collective breath, eyes wide. 

Nothing happened and Wren was the first to break the silence, “Everyone still themselves?” 

Cassandra slowly swiveled her gaze to meet Wren's. “Honestly?” she asked, incredulous. 

Wren shrugged apologetically, only to wince at the motion. Served her right, Cassandra thought. 

 

* * * 

 

In the days following their return to Skyhold, Dorian and Dagna locked themselves up in the Undercroft, tinkering with the artifact. Hoping to find a way to reverse the effects. Cassandra took some comfort in their dedication, and Dagna's excitement. 

Her tests had been less than pleasant, but they hadn't lasted more than a day. 

That left Cassandra with more free time than she would have liked. Even her usual methods of distraction were useless. Her mind wandered too much for her to concentrate on reading, and training... training was impossible. 

Cullen had taken over most of her duties at Wren's behest, leaving Cassandra with only the ability to wander Skyhold. She earned strange looks from everyone, most choosing to give her and Varric a wide berth. 

She had hardly spoken to Varric in the past few days. 

The moment before the camp had been attacked was never far from her mind. She had wanted to ask him about it, but her nerves always got the better of her. The fact he never brought up only lead her to one possible conclusion: she had imagined it. 

Of course she had. 

Uncertain how to spend her evening, Cassandra made her way to the tavern. At least there she would be distracted by the noise and stories. Stepping inside she found Varric with Bull and the Chargers, sharing a pint. 

“Cassandra! Join us!” Bull bellowed. He had been one of the few who'd had no trouble differentiating between them in their current state. Not that she was surprised. 

She cast a quick glance toward Varric, then took a seat near Krem who shoved a tankard into her hands. After that she didn't focus too much on Varric, instead listening to stories and laughing, the drink flowing freely. 

It was the best she had felt since she had switched bodies with Varric. 

As the hour grew later, Cassandra couldn't help but notice how tired Varric seemed. He covered a yawn, eyelids heavy. Her heart constricted at the realization of why he would be tired. She felt guilty for not being there for him, the nightmares must have gotten worse. 

That was one thing she had not missed, and she did not look forward to when they would return. Especially since Anthony had been on her mind of late. Ever since her talk with Varric. It pained her to admit she would not change that. 

But if he were alive... what would her life have been? Without that sorrow turned to anger to drive her, would she had joined the Seekers? Would she had saved the Divine and ended up an agent for her?

If none of that had happened, she might never had gone to Kirkwall. The Inquisition might have never come to fruition and she might have never fallen–the idea of that pained her more than anything else. 

While the others were distracted by a particularly gruesome tale of Bull's exploits, Cassandra discreetly made her way to Varric's side. 

“Might I have a word, in private?” she asked, leaning in close to his ear. 

He swung his gaze to meet hers, staring at her in confusion for a moment. “Of course, Seeker,” he said finally.

They excused themselves, and wandered outside. The night was cool and quiet and Cassandra took in a deep breath of the fresh air. Partly because it was nice after being cooped up with so many people, but mostly to calm her nerves. 

“Are the nightmares terrible?” she asked as they made their way up the steps beside the tavern, heading toward the battlements. 

“How'd you know?” He quirked a brow at her. 

“Lucky guess,” she replied as they crossed to the far wall, looking out over the snowy mountains illuminated by the full moon. “You have been alone... I am sorry. It is never easy.” 

She knew that from experience, and suddenly she dreaded the moment she would dream again and awake to darkness and solitude. She was so tired of being alone, and she couldn't help but wonder what would it be like to wake and have Varric there. To have have his warmth, his presence, to soothe away the memories and dark thoughts. 

“It'll be fine, Seeker. I can live with it.” 

“If you ever... wish to talk. You needn't hesitate to come find me, all right? No matter the time of day.” She laid a gentle hand on his arm, hoping he understood her concern. 

“I.. uh...” he cleared his throat. “Thank you. Cassandra.” 

He so rarely used her given name that it startled her, made her stomach turn itself into knots. It was so foolish, on her part. And yet...

She shook her head to clear it. “Of course, Varric. I am your friend, am I not?” 

His silence spoke volumes and suddenly she regretted everything. Regretted getting her hopes up, regretted thinking things could be different. Of course they could not. Not for them. She slowly withdrew her hand, trying to stamp down her disappoint and think of a way to excuse herself without making a further fool of herself.

Then Varric spoke. 

“Yes, you are. A very good friend, in fact.” He turned to face her and offered up a tight smile. “Maybe even... maybe even--”

“CASSANDRA! VARRIC!” Dorian's voice rang out from the courtyard below. 

They raced across the battlements, Varric leaning over the wall to gain Dorian's attention. “This better be good, Sparkler!” 

Dorian struck a proud stance, hands fisted at his sides, and grinned up at them. “I think we have an answer to your problem!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone on tumblr was asking for the next chapter since it was written... SO, uh, here you go? >:)

“You must be joking.” Varric had never wanted to stab someone or something more in all his life. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to resist the urge. 

Everyone was gathered in the Undercroft, listening to Dorian and Dagna relay all their experiments and theories and their final conclusion. 

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. “You mean to tell me that this entire time... all we had to do was touch it _again_!?” 

“That's theory!” Dagna said brightly. “We can't find any wards or guards or anything of that sort. We've even touched it!” Reaching out, she laid her hand on the artifact. “Nothing happens. So we think if you two touch it again, it will revert you back.” 

“Or it's broken and we're stuck,” Varric said.

“Or we all get switched around,” Cassandra added. 

“You two are so pessimistic!” Dagna frown. 

“Can you blame us?”

She stared at Varric for a moment. “No, I suppose not. But it's nice being tall, right?” 

“Are we doing this?” Cassandra asked. “Just touching it? I do not wish to be thrown into a wall again. Or worse,” she said, glancing around at the equipment littering the room. 

“I think it will be fine. Dorian and I believe that was a ward of some sort, but he'll erect a barrier to keep you safe. Just in case.” 

“Sounds good,” Wren said, “but I'm leaving. In case anything goes sideways.” She grabbed hold of Josephine and Cullen's arms, dragging them toward the stairs.

“Let us know how it works out!” she said before yanking the pair out the door. 

Next to him Cassandra shook her head. “I can't blame her. I would leave too.” She let out a sigh and turned toward the artifact. 

“Let us get this over with, hm?” 

“Which one of you touched it first?” 

“I did.” Varric raised his hand. “Did you touch it?” He looked toward Cassandra.

“Yes, to keep it from falling.”

“Ah. That explains it.” 

“Okay,” Dagna said. “So Varric will touch it, then Cassandra and it should be back to normal!” 

Sucking in a deep breath, Varric reached out. He closed his eyes, felt a hum as his fingers made contact with the artifact. Then Cassandra must've touched it as well, because there was a surge of power, shooting up his arm and then everything went black. 

When he came to it was to Dagna's face hovering over his. “Did it work?” Varric asked, his own, deeper voice sounding. He sat up, glanced down at his body – _his_ body – and let out a sigh of relief. 

A pained, “ugh,” sounded next to him and he glanced over to see Dorian helping Cassandra to sit up. His heart lurched. 

Somewhere along the way, with only watery reflections and cracked mirrors to go by, he had forgotten exactly how beautiful Cassandra was. Or perhaps, he mused, she was more beautiful now that he realized he loved her. 

Maker take him, he _loved_ her. 

“You're a sight for sore eyes,” he said. And he meant it. Maker, did he mean it. 

Cassandra finally lifted her gaze to meet his, eyes wide and startled and suddenly he couldn't do it. He couldn't love her. He _couldn't_ , because she couldn't love him. 

“I could say the same thing,” she replied. 

They continued to stare at each other for a long while. But he was the first to look away, fool that he was. “Well,” he said, affecting a happier tone than he felt. “I think we both deserve a nice hot both and good sleep, don't you?” 

Then he fled. Because he was a coward. 

A coward who loved Cassandra Pentaghast. 

 

* * * 

Varric successfully avoided Cassandra until the following evening. At which point he went looking for her. They needed to talk. Not about his feelings, but about the switch. About being returned to their rightful bodies about... they just needed to talk.

Because he missed her. 

It was sometime after supper when he worked up his courage, going to the room that overlooked the gardens, where she had taken up residence. 

He knocked and waited, but received no response. She had taken dinner in her room, had had a bath as well – not that he had been eavesdropping on the servants – so he knew she was there. He knocked again, pressed his ear close to the wood. Out of concern, he told himself. 

Listening intently, he heard a noise on the other side that sounded like a muffled sob, and the rustle of bedsheets. Another moment and it dawned on him: Cassandra was having a nightmare. 

Varric debated, he weighed the options before him: either leave or attempt to enter the room and comfort Cassandra. After dealing with dreams and nightmares himself, he thought the choice was obvious. So he tried the latch on her door, and it swung open soundlessly. He stepped inside quickly and shut the door again with a faint click. 

Her room was bathed in soft light, the fire in the hearth burning merrily. Cassandra was thrashing in bed, tears staining her face. He crossed to her, laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Seeker,” he whispered. “Cassandra... it's all right. Wake up.” 

She woke suddenly, bolting upright with a cry. A shaky hand lifted to cover her mouth as sobs wracked her body. Varric remained still, hovering at the edge of the bed while she sucked in a deep breath, before finally noticing him. She startled, shoulders tensing before they dropped and her face crumbled. 

“Varric,” she whimpered. 

He was at her side in an instant, sliding onto the bed and pulling her close. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breath hot and ragged against his skin. His eyes closed as he hold her, rubbing circles on her back until the trembling stopped. 

“It was Anthony,” she said eventually, voice a rasping whisper. 

“Shh,” he soothed. She didn't have to say more than that, and she doesn't try. 

After a while, Cassandra pulled back and wiped at her face. Without a word she rose from the bed and went to the basin in the corner, pouring water from the urn and splashing her face. Then she emptied the rest of the urn into a cup and drained it one long gulp. 

When she turned back to him, her eyes were rimmed red but she had lost the haunted look from before. He thought that was a good sign. 

Stopping next to the bed, she looked down at him for a moment. “What are you doing here?” 

“I thought we should talk. I heard you through the door.. I didn't think you should be alone.” 

“Thank you, Varric.” She smiled gently, lips trembling a bit. “We can talk, if you like. It would be... nice.” 

“We can talk in the morning, Cassandra. Right now, uh, why don't we just lie here for a while?” He lifted his brows in question, kicking off his boots and settling back against the pillows. They smelled like her, and he hoped his face stayed neutral. 

He held out his arms. Cassandra did not hesitate as she crawled onto the bed, tucking herself against him tightly. She rested one hand atop his chest, the other caught between them, and buried her face in his neck. The intimacy of it all was not lost on Varric, but he supposed after what they had been through, this was nothing. 

They were both still, breath evening out, and even Varric was growing drowsy after a while. He was certain Cassandra had fallen asleep, her breath on his neck was deep and slow. She shifted a little closer to him, fingers curling into his chest hair. 

“...dreams,” she mumbled, voice heavy with sleep, “... are better.” 

“Dreams?” he asked just above a whisper.

“...Varric... best... dreams,” she breathed and then fell silent, fingers going slack as sleep finally took her. 

Varric no longer felt tired and he laid still for a long time, simply enjoying the feel of her, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her breath tickled his neck. How soft she seemed, without the layers of armor, both literal and figurative. 

In the morning they would talk, and he resolved he would tell her truth. She dreamt about him after all, that had to be a good sign.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the thrilling and feelsy (and so very NSFW -- TOTAL SMUT) conclusion to Bodyswap! (Unless I decide on an epilogue PFFT!)

When Cassandra woke it was to sun shining through the drapes she had not shut entirely the night before, along with a heavy weight across her midsection. 

Turning her head, she found Varric sprawled next to her, face buried in a pillow, and one arm locked around her waist. The night before... she had thought of that so many times lately, wondering how it felt to be held by Varric. She had thought it a dream, her imagination getting the better of her, but it had been real. 

At her movements he started to stir and Cassandra watched as he rolled away from her, onto his side. He took in a deep breath and sat up, obviously confused at his surroundings. When he realized where he was, he turned and looked down at her. 

“Good morning.” She smiled, and impulsively reached up to rake her fingers through his sleep mussed hair, brushing it back from his face. His breath hitched, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. 

Cassandra then did something else impulsive: she pulled Varric down for a kiss. 

If he was shocked, he didn't show it, returning her kiss the moment their lips met. She tangled her fingers in his hair, moaning when one large hand gripped her hip tightly, the other braced on the bed. The kiss quickly turned heated, and she wrapped a leg around his hips, drawing him closer. 

Varric broke the kiss. “Wait, wait,” he panted, blinking to clear his vision. “We said we would talk. We should talk.” 

Cassandra swallowed, lips pressed together as she caught her breath. “All right. We will talk.” 

He rolled off her, flopping against the pillows. “That was, uh, that was quite the kiss.” 

“It was.” She laughed, a little giddy. “I have wanted to do that for a while.” 

“Me too,” Varric said and sat up. He gave her a slow grin.“Shit, I even wanted to when it was _this_.” He waved a hand at his face. 

“You wanted to kiss me in the tent,” she mused. She had thought she had imagined it, like everything else. But she hadn't. Everything suddenly made more sense. 

“Yeah.” Varric shook his head, glancing toward the window. “I wanted to kiss you then. I wanted to kiss you on the battlements. And I honestly wanted to kiss you at the Inn. I wanted to kiss you before we faced Corypheus, and after we won, and at the celebration.” 

He met her gaze, serious and solemn. “I've wanted you kiss you for a long time, I just couldn't quite admit it to myself.” 

“Varric, I--”

“No, let me say this? Please, Cassandra?” 

She nodded and he sucked in a breath before continuing. 

“I've cared about you for a long time. I've known that. But it took this whole ordeal for me to realize my feelings went far beyond that. I was scared, and I'm sorry it took this to make me realize that. But the thing is, I love you.”

Cassandra scrambled to sit up and beamed at him, her heart fit to bursting at his words. “I love you, too,” she said.

Before Varric could say another word, she lunged forward and captured his lips in another kiss. Her enthusiasm in the matter was so much, the force knocked him back against the mattress. Without breaking the kiss, Cassandra straddled Varric's waist, leaning over him and framing his face with both hands. 

She pulled back eventually, letting them both catch their breath again. She looked into his eyes, he was dazed but she could clearly see he meant it. He loved her. 

“I love you,” she whispered again and kissed his cheek, then the scar across his nose. His hand cupped the back of her head, yanking her down as he craned his neck up to meet her lips. 

Her thumbs brushed his jaw, and she rocked against him earning a delightful moan from him. His hands, large and strong, trailed over her back and down her sides, before gripping her hips firmly. He held her close as he sat up, nipping at her lower lip, her chin, her neck. 

“Are we really doing this?” he asked, laying kisses along her neck. “And I don't just mean this.” Varric emphasized his point by dragging his teeth along her pulse point. “I mean... everything else. After.”

Casandra wormed away enough to look at his face, her heart racing and breath erratic. Lifting her hand, she traced gentle fingers over his jaw, across his forehead, smoothing his worried brows. She drew one finger along the bridge of his nose, and over his lips, studying him closely. 

“We are,” she said and lifted her to gaze to meet his. “I meant what I said before: I would not change my path. I would not change this, with you, for anything.”

Varric stared at her for a moment, and his eyes darted across her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. Then he leaned forward and kissed her with a fierceness that left her breathless. 

Their kisses turned more heated, and there was a sense of urgency, a need to taste and touch and feel all they could. The first item of clothing to end up on the floor was Cassandra's tunic, yanked over her head in quick order while breaking their kiss. 

Next was Varric's, which ended up flung half-way across the room after a disastrous attempt to free his arm. Cassandra laughed until Varric started at the laces on her leathers, bending to trail kisses along her stomach. She sucked in a breath at the sensation, pressing back against the pillows and lifting her hips so he could yank them off. 

They joined his shirt across the room. 

Varric looked down at her, eyes trailing over her slowly, and made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan.

“What?” she asked. 

“There's just... a whole lot of you.” 

“Is that good or bad?” He had to have known that, after everything. Perhaps though, it was different back in his own body. Perhaps it bothered him, the fact she was human. 

“That's, uh, good... very good.” He licked this lips, eyes dark. 

Cassandra smiled and reached out to start undoing his laces, kissing him while her fingers made quick work of the ties. She ran a hand over his length eliciting a strangled sound from Varric, and shoved him back against the bed. 

His trousers fluttered to the floor. 

“There's a whole lot of you, too.” Cassandra smirked and Varric laughed. 

“Come here.” He reached out, pulling her down and kissing her soundly. She slipped her hand between them, and he moaned when she grasped his cock. 

She smiled into the kiss. 

Varric pulled back and looked at her. “Wait, did you ever...?”

“Of course not.” She paused, chewing her lip. “Did you?”

“No! I barely even looked unless I had to. I'm looking now, though.” He swept his gaze over her, and she felt a delicious heat settle in the pit of her stomach. 

Cassandra shook her head to clear it, considered his words. “Pity,” she drawled, “you might have learned a few things about pleasuring–” She shrieked when he flipped them over. 

“Oh, don't worry, Seeker. I won't have any problems with that.” Varric bent his head and kissed a path across her chest, the swell of each breast and the valley between. He took one dusky nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue and sending electric shocks of need straight to her core. 

She reached up to tangle her hands in his hair, but he was already kissing his way down her stomach. Taking in a steadying breath, she glanced down at him. 

“You are awfully sure of yourself, dwarf.” She wet her lips, breath hitching when his teeth grazed her hip. “Are you certain you can live up to it?” 

Varric lifted his head to meet her gaze, a slow grin spreading across his face. Her stomach fluttered. “You always claimed I had a clever tongue,” he said and settled himself between her legs. 

Cassandra took in a shuddering breath as Varric laid a soft kiss to her core. He ran his tongue along her, tasting her, and they both moaned. She felt shocks of pleasure building in her stomach as Varric laved at her core. 

She gripped the sheets tightly, eyes shut and lips parted, lost to the sensations and the heat spreading through her body. Then he shifted his attention to her clit, and she gasped, arcing off the bed. He sucked and licked and when he slid a finger inside of her, testing her wetness, he _hummed_ against her and Cassandra came so suddenly it shocked her. She cried out, gripping the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white as she shuddered and shock and whimpered his name. 

Varric kissed the inside of her thigh, watching her closely. “See, clever tongue.”

“And fingers,” she said, swallowing thickly. She lifted her head to look at him, a smug smile in place, and she needed to feel him. She needed all of him. 

Reaching for him, she yanked him up and kissed him hard. He tasted like her and she licked at his lips. He groaned in response. Cassandra prodded him until he laid back. She threw her leg over him, positioning herself over his cock. Breaking the kiss, she sat up and sank onto him slowly, breathing a contented sigh. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice strangled. 

Cassandra braced her hands on his chest, fingers curling into the thick hair. She caught her lip between her teeth and rocked against him. Varric let out a harsh breath, hands sliding up her thighs and gripping her hips. 

She rocked against him again, a slow swirl of her hips. 

“Ngh.” His head dropped back against the bed, eyes shut, fingers digging into her hips. 

“Varric,” she said, stilling above him. “Look at me.” 

He opened his eyes, locking gazes with her. Cassandra rose up, hands braced on his chest and brought her hips down again. He let out a strangled groan, fingers almost painful as they gripped her. Then all slowness was gone, Cassandra moving against him frantically as their breaths grew ragged. 

Varric sat up, kissing her chest and breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. Cassandra's fingers clutched at his shoulders, holding tight as they moved together sharply, each chasing their release. 

There was a roar in Cassandra's ears as she rolled her hips once, twice and Varric trust up, his hand moving between them and finding her clit again. She cried out, her voice nearly drowned out by his own shout. Cassandra sucked in deep gulps of air, resting her forehead against Varric's, his breath hot against her chin. 

Cassandra ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed him, slow and lazy and content. She untangled herself from him, legs shaky and heart racing. 

Varric fell back against the bed, let out a deep breath. “Holy shit,” he mumbled. 

“Mmm,” Cassandra tucked herself against him, nose buried against his neck. She took in a deep breath. “We are never leaving this bed.” 

His arms locked around her, pulling her as close as possible. “Fine by me, Cassandra. Fine by me.” He dropped a kiss atop her head before they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has liked and reblogged and left comments/sent messages. I cannot express how much they’ve meant to me, and how happy I am people have enjoyed this fic. Lots of you have said it’s cheered you up or brightened your day, and that is just.. that just makes me so happy and I’m so glad to have at least made a few people smile! Thank you for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [bodyache](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269847) by [weatheredlaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw)




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